


The Rose

by HandsOfGold



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsOfGold/pseuds/HandsOfGold
Summary: Sansa Stark has lost her family to the cruelty of King Joffrey. She is sheltered by the Tyrells of Highgarden, whose daughter Margaery can light up her heart again. However, Margaery is to be wedded to Joffrey...





	

The sun that fell through the window into Sansa's new room was casting warm rays of liquid honey into her hair, the same auburn hair that had been touched by nothing but snowflakes until only a short time ago.  
The sun had not shone like this in the North.  
When she looked out of her window she no longer saw the wide, grey sky and the seemingly eternal white lands, blue sky stretched to the horizon now, crossed by birds from time to time, meadows and fields of flowers covered the ground as far as the eye could see until meeting the sky in the far horizon.  
The climbing roses, red, orange, yellow and golden, entwined themselves up the white walls to the windowsill, accompanied by ivy and grapevines, while the gardens that laid beneath it were dominated by even more flowers as well as countless pools, fountains and waterfalls that had to be manmade, yet looked as graceful and elegant as made by nature itself.  
In another time, maybe in another life Sansa would have enjoyed and admired it, be thrilled by the sight and looked at every single plant in awe, but now it left her heart untouched and cold.

Instead of watching the gardens from above she sat in front of the mirror and calmly stared into her hardened eyes.  
'Look into your eyes, child.', her aunt Lysa had told her once.  
'They're full of life, sparkling with joy, just as a child's eyes should be.'  
She had been eight years of age back then, and every day following it she had looked into the mirror on her room's wall and joyfully admired the light inside her eyes, had watched it change and mature yet remain the same.  
Now she was sixteen, it was the first time she checked her eyes since her rash departure from Winterfell, and it did not surprise her that dull, empty eyes stared back at her.  
"Alayne, that's who she is.", she whispered to herself, barely more than a breath.  
"Lady Alayne, and Sansa will rest underneath."

She heard the clear sound of a bell ringing over the castle, fourteen times, and as the ringing had ceased somebody knocked at the door.  
"Yes?", Sansa called out politely and the door opened, revealing a man and two women standing in the doorframe.  
The man, a rather chubby, blonde man with a quite impressive mustache, appeared to be in his forties, the tall and dignified woman with long silver hair looking younger, around thirty, while the second woman had to be older than sixty.

"I bid you welcome to Highgarden, Sansa Stark.", the man took the word first of all.  
"Alayne.", Sansa found herself mumbling, bewildered by herself.  
"My name is Alayne now."  
The man seemed confused for a second before he nodded.  
"Lady Alayne. Our condolences for your loss. It must be hard for you."  
"Thank you, Lord..."  
Hesitantly she stopped, looking at him.  
"Tyrell.", he replied.  
"Mace Tyrell." He gestured towards the women.  
"My wife Alerie and my mother Olenna."  
"Thank you, Lord Tyrell.", Sansa repeated and curtseyed before the three nobles.  
"It is indeed hard. But I have to thank you, without your willingness of admission I would have to live a life on the run."  
"There was no other option for us, not ever.", the younger woman - Lady Alerie - spoke for the first time.  
"Highgarden is the safest place for you, and we are not as dishonourable as to allow a girl as you are to live on the run, without any guarantee of safety."  
Sansa forced herself to give her a little smile, it cost her incredible labour.  
"We have decided that it is best for you when as few people as possible know your true identity.", Lord Tyrell took the word from his mother again.  
"For now, it is only us and my children, a daughter and three sons.  
Their chambers are right next to yours.  
You do not have to fear any harm in this place, and you can move within the walls as you wish, I must only ask you not to go beyond the maze.  
Nobody knows yet who is responsible for your chase, but there are suspections which we work on finding out.  
You will stay here as long as it is necessary to hide yourself.  
Maybe, when the time comes, you may return to your home as the rightful heiress."

Sansa nodded as her only reply, not finding words that could fit the situation.  
"Now, I am afraid I do have other matters calling... feel at home here!  
You are invited for dinner at sundown or can ask for it to be brought here, if you rather wish to eat alone."  
"My son...", Lady Olenna whispered and shook her head at Mace, who did not hear her anymore.  
Lady Alerie had remained standing hesitantly in the doorframe.  
"Oh my child, you must meet Margaery!", Olenna exclaimed towards Sansa.  
"Mother, please don't pressure her.", the Lady of Highgarden said with both excuse and amusement in her delicate voice and stepped inside the room again.  
"I can understand how hard it is for you right now, but if you seek comfort... do not hesitate to come to one of us. You are our ward now - even if not officially - and we want to care for you well."  
"Thank you, Mylady.", Sansa said quietly.  
"It is nothing greatly special.", she replied gently and touched her forehead with a soft gesture before the two woman left the room.

They were warm and nice people, and Sansa felt almost bad that her smiles at them were not real, but she could not bring herself to a smile.  
As the day went on, she found herself sitting by the window and observing the gardens, seeing children playing and pretty girls walking on the arm of handsome young men.  
There was a particular person catching her attention, a tall girl around her age with light brown hair curling down almost to her bare waist that wasn't covered by the cloth of her light blue dress.  
She was walking and laughing with a young man with shorter, lighter curls before they disappeared out of Sansa's sight.

The gardens emptied as the sun sunk, but she felt no appetite nor energy to get up for dinner or ask for it, and slowly she felt the exhaustion of the journey that had mostly been taken on her feet, and so she took off her dress to change into a nightgown.  
Somebody had apparently given her a whole wardrobe, and at first view she saw that the clothes were none alike with the clothes she had used to wear - the darker, muted colours of thick, warm cloth were not fitting for the climate and atmosphere of Highgarden, instead she found bright colours, the warm layers simply being left out, making the dresses a lot lighter.

Sansa chose something that apparently was a nightgown and brushed her knotted hair for the first time since running away, it took her nearly ten minutes to return it to an acceptable state.  
As she could finally slip under the thin bedsheets she felt the full exhaustion and just laid there, unable to move she stared up to the ceiling as her eyes slowly closed and she fell asleep...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Sansa, run!', the auburn haired woman screamed at the girl who sat like paralyzed, unable to move a limb while her eyes were fixed at the head of her father, on the floor surrounded by a lake of blood.  
'Run, child, run!', the woman screamed again.  
'They want you too, run, run!'  
Sansa couldn't run, she was frozen in rigour with open eyes.  
Was it one of those dreams in which you couldn't run away?  
'Sansa run-'  
The woman's sentence was cut off by a horrible sound of choking as a sharp blade cut a blood spilling smile into her throat, the guest's gruesomely grinning face appearing behind her.  
And now, Sansa screamed.  
She got up so hastily that her chair was thrown to the ground, ran away from the man that was after her.  
More blood splashed up from where she ran through the liquid, the floor a red lake.  
With open eyes another corpse faced the ceiling, the young man with auburn hair had his heart pierced by a blade, his hand entwined with the hand of the woman who was staring like him, her thousand times stabbed stomach a spring of blood.  
Sansa screamed and ran, the one time she turned back she saw a wolf's head staring at her from the man's body.  
Little children crying, short legs without a body.  
She stumbled into a corner, tried to turn back just to face a man with a sword in his hand.  
As the cold steel pierced her stomach she thought she had to die, covered her face with her arms praying to the gods it would be over soon - but suddenly there were arms enclosing her, lifting her up, carrying her away while she screamed their names.  
'No, no!', she screamed, cried, tears flooded her face.  
'No!  
Mother... father... Robb... Bran... no, please no!'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mother!"  
Sansa sat up rapidly, covered in sweat.  
Highgarden, she noticed as she saw the moon shining through the ivy, she was in Highgarden and she needed not to fear them anymore.  
Her breath got caught in her throat as she sunk back into her pillow, tears streamed out of her eyes again and veiled her sight so far that she did not notice the movement as the door opened.

As a warm hand touched her arm she screamed again, pulled the blanket over her head and pushed the hand away.  
"Sansa... Sansa, don't."  
The voice she heard was surprisingly soft, belonging to a young girl rather than the grown man who haunted her mind since that night.  
The covers were removed gently and Sansa looked into a maiden's face, stunning green-blue eyes that were full of concern, her face framed by light brown curls.  
"Don't fear me, Sansa.", she said softly.  
"How can I not fear you if you know who I am?", Sansa whispered, her voice trembling.  
"I am Lord Mace's daughter.", she replied, her hand searching for Sansa's under the covers.  
As she had found it, she softly enclosed it.  
"My father has told me who you are and why you are here."  
"I am pleasured to meet you, my lady."  
Sansa struggled to control her face as far as possible, trying not to have the worst impression on the Lord's daughter.  
"Don't treat me that formal.", Margaery requested, squeezing her hand a little more for a moment.  
"I don't want you to treat me like somebody above you. No matter what happened, still you are a highborn lady, Winterfell's rightful heiress. If your house would have been spared, we would have been sisters, you and I."  
"Right... I remember...", Sansa mumbled, although she felt as though she was lying. House Stark was extinct, and she was nothing but a low blooded girl now, owing her life to a man who could end it in every second if it meant gain for him.

"You can ask for something to stop the nightmares, if you want.", Margaery said and looked at her gently.  
Sansa shook her head in reply.  
"No...", she said.  
"This is something I now live with, if it does not haunt my dreams it will haunt my mind anyways."  
The other girl nodded her eyes were understanding but there was sadness within them.  
"If you want to speak to somebody, do not hesitate to see me.", she then said.  
"You can find me in the gardens every day."  
"I will come when my heart allows me.", Sansa said, and then the warmth of Margaery's hand was gone and she was alone again.

Despite the tiredness she felt, she was afraid to fall back into sleep, and into the memories of the night her whole life had been shattered. A soft, cool breeze blew over the moonlit fields into her face, and for a split second there was a spark of hope for peace ignited in her heart. But in the next second it was gone, and she felt childish for daring to hope. Her life was in the hands of the Tyrells and of Petyr Baelish. Not having met Mace Tyrell's sons yet she could not tell whether or not she trusted them, but the lord himself, his wife and his daughter seemed trustworthy. Lady Olenna was of a different kind, but Sansa trusted her, too. Petyr on the other hand...

Sansa sighed. Often her mother had cast anxious looks into the distance when her childhood friend had been mentioned. She herself had never understood the worries about the man who had always treated her in a way an uncle would have done. Some of his looks towards her she had never been able to read, but with the time she had learned that they were the reason of Lady Catelyn's worries. Petyr Baelish had loved her mother in their youth, and - as her parents had been certain - still did so. Would he prefer his own gain over the daughter of the woman he had loved?

Why Petyr had not taken her with him she knew: despite having his own castle - which he was used to call a ruin - he remained Lord Baelish, Master of Coin under Joffrey Baratheon in King's Landing, and Sansa did not feel comfortable with him being there, so close to the Lannisters, the house that had erased her entire family. But he had convinced her that it was better than vanishing after the massacre and thus arouse suspicion. And in a way she was relieved that she had not stayed with him.

Sansa was well aware that Petyr would have done everything to receive Catelyn's love, but the flames behind his eyes towards her, her mother's mirror, had grown to be unsettling in the last years. If she had lived with him, where he was the Lord... She shook her head and turned her thoughts loose.

Morning was dawning upon Highgarden, but if Sansa was tired her mental tiredness exceeded the physical. Her heart was still exhausted and felt bled out, but her tears had dried and there were none left to cry. Petyr Baelish had saved her from the hell the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms had brought upon her home and fled with her to bring her to this safe haven. A paradise that, despite its beauty and warmth, felt cold and foreign.

\---

Two weeks had passed since Sansa had arrive in Highgarden, and not once she had left her rooms, neither had her paths crossed with Margaery's again. Yet slowly the stone in her breast was being reached by the soft sunbeams, and slowly its icy shell began to melt and Sansa was allowed to see the beauty of Highgarden with more than admiration. And one beautiful, warm morning she looked out of her window to see Margaery walk through the gardens, even more beautiful than she had remembered her. Now, finally, Sansa's heart allowed it.

Quickly she stepped back from the window and asked her maids, to whom she had not spoken a word before, to prepare warm water for a bath. While they were at work she opened the wardrobe that had seemed so strange at first look, and ended choosing a silk dress of a soft, yellow colour, embroidered with red gold and in modeling similar to the one Margaery had worn the first time she had spotted her in the gardesn.

The water was warm and soothing, and while the maids were washing and treating her tangled hair Sansa closed her eyes and enjoyed the caressing aqua sloshing over her skin. Her body was rubbed with something that felt like sand and left her skin soft and flawless, and the maids seemed to enjoy drying and brushing her dull hair until it gleamed in an almost fiery red that matched perfectly with her chosen dress, the flaming sun in a soft morning sky.

She thanked her maids with shy smile and left the room. Only having walked here once she was afraid that she would not find her way, but it was surprisingly easy. Her room, along with the Tyrell childrens' own, was located on the top of a tower, the entrances to each room in a circle around a ditto circular hall in the middle of which a spiral staircase led down into another hallway that eventually ended in a balcony above what appeared to be the entry hall. Curving stairs led down to the ultimate, huge staircase under the dome of frosted glass that vaulted the entire hall, crisscrossed by a pattern of gold.

The hall was full of people walking around or just sitting in one of the seats placed everywhere around it, and although of course she attracted a few looks, no one seemed to recognize her from anywhere. When she had arrived it had been late night, and the hall abandoned, so it was the first time that she saw a mass of people since the last night in Winterfell. Again the scream seemed to echo through her brain again, and her eyes began to burn, but she held her head up high and proud, the way she had been taught to, and made her way throughout the people.

The sun outside was golden flamed, the air was sweet like honey. From home Sansa had known the Godswood and the deep, dark groves under light summer snow, but the green trees here were neither solemn and dignified nor wild and formidable. Under the sweeping branches rested girls in soft grass and delightful flowers, and the air was filled with birdsong and quiet voices and laughter.

Further away there were pavilions covered in the same ivy that twined around the tower, beds and tendrils of roses in every colour adorned the gardens, the coat of arms of the Tyrells characterized their castle and the lands around it. While Sansa was still walking through the gardens, letting every new impression float through her, suddenly there was a warm hand on her shoulder. Suppressing a scream she turned around, and looked right into the brown eyes of Margaery.

"Thank the gods, it's you.", she breathed in relief and laid hand upon her heart.

"Did I scare you?", the other girl asked worriedly while her hand lingered on Sansa's shoulder, tearing the gaze away from her eyes the redhead shook her head.

"I'm easily scared.", she replied, laughing nervously. Margaery gave her a big smile and took her arm.

"Would you go on a walk with me?", she asked warmly and gestured through the gardens.

"All those lands waiting to be discovered! We have to visit my grandmother, I know she would love you- oh, and my brothers, I'm sure they want to meet you as well!"

Slightly overwhelmed by Margaery's enthusiasm Sansa only nodded with a light smile. The other girl clapped her hands joyfully and tucked a strand of Sansa's hair behind her ear.

"You look wonderful.", she said and smiled again.

"You'll love it here. I promise."

"I am sure I will."

Margaery's grandmother, Lady Olenna, had been one of the first people the young girl had met at Highgarden, as she remembered now. The old, fragile-looking woman sat in a graceful white pavillon, ivy present as always, and allowed herself a light smile when she saw her granddaughter pulling Sansa towards her.

"I am pleased to see you again, girl.", she said, resting her elbows on the table in front of her.

"Please, take a seat."

"Oh, I do not wish to bother you, mylady.", Sansa said hastily before Margaery could speaak another word. But Olenna just showed a dismissive hand gesture.

"I haven't been waiting to speak to you for two weeks just for you to walk away again! Sit down here, young lady, we have all the time in the world."

"Grandmother, don't frighten her!" The Tyrell girl laughed and put her hands on Sansa's shoulders, gently pushing her down on one of the stairs. Indeed she was nearly paralyzed by insecurity and silently thanked Margaery for the gesture which allowed her to collect herself.

"So, have you seen a little bit of Highgarden yet?", Olenna asked, ignoring her granddaughter's interjection, and looked at the ginger girl searchingly.

"N-no, mylady.", Sansa answered, keeping her head down to avoid her gaze. The Queen of Thorns was an impressing personality, but she was as witty and sarcastic as she was old and her friendly words were to be enjoyed with care.

"Yet, my impressions were stunning, and I cannot wait to-"

"Look at me, girl." The old woman chuckled.

"If you fear that I am going to seduce you with my mesmerizing eyes and lead you into eternal damnation you might have read too many fairy tales. I see no other reason why you would avoid looking at me."

"You're frightening her, grandmother.", Margaery repeated, again to be dismissed by her grandmother.

"Dear child, I believe you might cause distraction in our beautiful talk here. Don't you want to go and fetch your brothers? It has been said that they have been expecting the chance to meet this beautiful lady here." She gave her granddaughter a little wink which Sansa did not miss. Again, heat ploughed up her head and flushed her cheeks.

"I'll be back in no time", Margaery whispered and squeezed Sansa's hand with her soft fingers before she hurried down the stairs to the pavillon.

"Now to you", Olenna said, again in the lurking tone that made Sansa gulp. She forced herself to look up nevertheless and was surprised by the benevolence appearing in those searching eyes.

"You seem to be a good fit, my dear."

"For- for what, if I may ask, mylady?", Sansa asked insecurely.

"For what? For what do people use good fits?" Olenna seemed to become impatient very quickly. Sansa began to fear that she could enrage the woman, but then it dawned to her.

"Oh", she said shyly and the blush crept farther up her cheeks.

"Mylady, I do not believe that a bastard daughter could be fit to marry one of the Lord's sons."

"Was I talking about my son's sons?", she sighed.

"I cannot remember doing so, and the day that I become forgetful is yet to come. And, girl, save your breath for more important things than adding 'mylady' to every sentence you speak. You should be grateful that those breaths are gifted to you instead of wasting them."

"Of course, my- of course." Sansa hoped that Margaery would return soon, and she observed that Olenna seemed to be thinking the same thing. Her eyes scanned the green for a trace of the girl and after she had found it she kept watching her.

Sansa had thought about Margaery in the past two weeks. At night she had hoped that the brunette would return and give that soft, warm hand to her again, chase all her nightmares away. Margaery hadn't come, and as she looked at her Sansa believed that she knew why: Margaery was flawless. She was as beautiful as no other woman Sansa had ever seen, she seemed to be smart, eloquent and joyful, all the qualities Sansa had taken pride in having she had multiplied. And Margaery's life was perfect, why waste it on a person like Alayne?

She sighed unconsciously and locked her eyes on Margaery again. She was currently bend down to talk to a little girl, smiled as it handed her a daisy it had picked up. She stroke over the girl's hair and gave it another smile before she waved the curly-haired young man with whom Sansa had seen her already over to her.

Sansa watched every move Margaery made. Her body swayed gently from left to right while she waited for her brother to return, and even though she couldn't hear it Sansa was sure that she was humming a song as she caressed the little daisy with a smile. So many smiles. Margaery was the sun, Sansa thought. Her voice was the sweetest sound she ever had heard.

Suddenly Olenna brought the girl back into reality. The old woman had stood up and walked around the table to put her hand on Sansa's upper arm.

"You see what I've been talking about?", she asked.

"My granddaughter is a lovely girl, as are you. Make her happy, dear, until she goes."

Sansa's words were stuck in her throat. What was Olenna talking about?

"Come, walk with me."

Olenna had chosen a path through a labyrinth of rose bushes that lined a wreathing path. There were all kinds of the flowers, yet the colours were in perfect harmony: yellow, pink, white, orange, all in soft, pastel shades. The fragrant smell of the roses was in the air and Sansa inhaled it raptly. The old woman appeared to be surprised by this behaviour.

"We don't have roses in Winterfell, mylady", she explained. Winterfell was a rough, cold place where the gentle blossoms would not survive. She was sure that her mother had known them from her youngest days, but certainly not in this splendour. Sansa felt a sting in her heart as she thought of her mother.

"Ah, I see. What a pity to have beautiful ladies like you grow up in such raw surroundings."

Sansa laughed under gathering tears. "The North is no place for gentle ladies.", she said.

"There are two kinds of northern daughters. The true northern daughter is virile and strong, ungentle with anything besides the sword. Their fathers wish they had a son like them, in daughters they look for sweet, beautiful creatures that will - when the time is right - bring them a union with a good house."

"Oh, but there are exceptions." Again Olenna's eyes scanned Sansa.

"Your aunt, Lyanna, I remember her clearly. Beautiful, willful..."

"...and dead before her time", Sansa finished the sentence. Dead, like so many others, like her mother and sister.

"She was said to be very beautiful."

Olenna sighed deeply. Her eyes assumed a saddened look.

"Beautiful, yes, beautiful she was. But beauty brings love, and love brings lust, and they lead to impulsive decisions on the 'strong gender''s side." This time she looked into Sansa's eyes.

"She was crowned with winter roses, my dear. Winter roses became the symbol for her beauty and her strength. When you have received what is rightfully yours, you too shall be crowned with winter roses."

She sighed again and Sansa silently followed her through the rose gardens. The white walls of Highgarden came in sight, and with them the view of the wide fields and meadows, streams and trees that could be seen from the window of Sansa's chambers, too.

"You also know that these roses brought incredible sorrow over these lands", Olenna suddenly said sternly.

"I do not want to claim that Aerys should have ruled for longer, but I believe that his son would have been a much greater ruler. Robert... Robert was as capable of ruling as my dear son is. Madness or greatness was the fate of any Targaryen, but against the Lannisters and the one who now has the throne Rhaegar would have been the much better choice."

Sansa was not sure what to reply to this. Old Nan had told them fairy tales, no stories of past and future kings and what could have happened if something else had not happened.

Her wrinkled fingers touched one of the white roses. As they ran down its petiole a thorn pricked her fingers and a drop of blood oozed out of her finger. Drop by drop it dripped down onto the blossom, staining it with red.

"The Lannisters are madmen, there is no doubt. But this realm will endure them, as it has endured so many other before. And what has to be done has to be done. A gentle, smart queen on his side may ease the boy's brain farts, and that is why Margaery is going to marry him."

\---

Margaery. Marrying Joffrey.

Sansa had retreated into her chambers, sending away all maidens and locking the door behind her. Frozen in shock she had sid down her bedside and leaned against the mattress, staring into the blue, blue sky. Why did it bother her? Surely Margaery was a wonderful woman, but the feeling gnawing on her inner was something else than pure fear for her safety in King's Landing.

Joffrey was a monster disguised as an innocent boy, and he'd made Sansa feel that. When the Stark family had come to King's Landing, Robert Baratheon had suggested an alliance by marriage between the two houses. Sansa's father had not given a clear answer until the day of the king's death, on his deathbed Eddard had refused the marriage.

Oh, how angry Sansa had been! She had loved the blonde boy, her prince - or she had thought so, she ashamedly thought - and had been furious when her father had announced they all would leave the city the day after to return to Winterfell.

Neither Sansa nor her sister had understood why, but while Sansa had been furious Arya had been relieved upon their departure. Eddard Stark had hurried and only rested when they passed the gates of their home, and no two months later they all had been dead.

With best regards from King Joffrey.

Desperately she put her hands in front of her face and closed her eyes. Was it because she didn't want the Tyrells to end the same way the Starks had? Was it because Margaery could easily displease Joffrey and he could even easier order her beheading? Was it because Margaery was so kind to he, so gentle and joyful that it made her heart rejoice?

She shook her head ferociously.

"No...", she whispered, "No, no, no! Not her, you can't have her the same way you had me!"

"Sansa?" It was Margaery's voice, accompanying the mild knocking on the door.

"Are you in there?"

"Yes, I am." Her voice sounded the way she felt: weak, and close to tears.

"Why did you leave?" The other girl sounded concerned, and Sansa felt ashamed. She shouldn't just have left without a word, but there was no way she could look at Margaery now.

"Sansa? Are you alright? Would you open the door?" The Stark girl said no word. She was afraid that Margaery would hear how fragile and vulnerable she was. She waited for her to leave, but the brunette did not. Finally she dared to speak again, having stabilised her voice.

"You're marrying Joffrey?"

"Oh." Suddenly Margaery sounded sad. It nearly broke Sansa's heart. There was a reason which she couldn't grasp why she didn't want this marvellous girl to feel anything other than happiness.

"Would you open the door, Sansa, please?"

She sighed and pulled herself up, quickly running her fingers through her hair before slowly turning the key and opening the door. Margaery looked at her for a second and then wrapped her arms around her.

It was a wonderful feeling. Margaery was only a little smaller than Sansa and so her head rested on Sansa's shoulder while she held her tight. After pulling away Margaery kept holding her hand, locked the door again and pulled her over to the bed with the same gesture that she had used earlier in the pavillon.

"Yes, I am going to marry Joffrey", she said seriously. She didn't wait for an interjection or reaction before continuing.

"I cannot say I love him. In fact, I know at the latest since what happened to you that I should - and do - hate him. But sometimes there is no other way. Somebody needs to soothe him."

"How long?" was all Sansa could ask. She felt herself tearing up, unwilling to give up Margaery. She regretted wasting the last two weeks here, thinking that Margaery would be here for an eternity. Now that she knew their time was limited it hurt her.

"Two months." Margaery sighed and began to draw patterns on Sansa's hand.

"I'm so sorry. I wish we would have had more time together."

"How did this come to life?" Sansa was surprised by how calmly she ignored the other's expression of emotion.

"After your father left King's Landing - I mean, we all knew that you were meant to marry him - a letter came to us", she explained.

"It announced a visitation by the King and Queen Consort, officially for introducing Joffrey's politics, but when they arrived we all knew he was looking for a bride by the way they looked at me." She shuddered. "My father, you know, he couldn't say no. And thus I am the betrothed of King Aerys' successor in personality."

As Sansa stayed silent again she looked at her with pain in her eyes.

"Listen, Sansa, I like you. I really like you, and I am so sorry that we do not have more time. But we can use this time we have left, don't you think so? Please", she added. Sansa felt the tears coming back, and she leaned against the girl's shoulder to hide them.

"Yes, I think so", she whispered and felt Margaery's smile as she stroke over her hair. The Tyrell girl smiled sweetly and embraced Sansa.

Beneath her lips she could feel the soft warmth of the other's skin. Overcome by a sudden feeling of thrilling excitement she lifted her head few inches to press her lips against Margaery's collarbone, surprised by the sharp breath with which she reacted. Her fingers dug slightly into Sansa's back, and as she looked up, the brunette's warm eyes sparkled.

Again she bedded her head against Margaery's neck, certain that she would be able to feel her smile. The grasp relaxed and Sansa felt the other girl's head rested atop of hers. Slowly Margaery's gentle hands began caressing her back. Sansa melted away at the touch.

She didn't quite know what to think of this gesture. Inexperienced as she was, the young woman wasn't able to tell if it was supposed to be comforting or loving in an amicable way, but she was certain she didn't need to know.

Encouraged by Margaery's gentleness she took her head away again and nestled her temple against hers. The caressing hands had meanwhile travelled down her back and touched her waist, exposed by her dress. A shiver ran over the touched locations.  
Sansa knew that Margaery would eventually remove her hands.

She put her hand at the girl's cheek, thumb fondling her flawless skin a few times before it ran through her hair and kept hold of it.  
The next second, Sansa had pressed her lips against Margaery's.

Shocked by her impulsive reaction she instantly pulled back again. A blush had crept over her face, and the tension in the air between them was almost visible. Sansa couldn't take it.  
But instead of looking to the ground, stammering an excuse and slowly back off, she pulled Margaery's head close again.

Reluctant at first the kiss was welcomed by the opposite. Her lips opened slightly, allowing Sansa to feel her tongue dancing between her lips. The grasp at her hips tightened and as she leaned in, Margaery fell over, dragging Sansa to the mattress with her.

The kiss became more ardent from Margaery's side now. The feeling of pain inflicted by fingernails digging into her flesh was perceived as anything but uncomfortable by Sansa.  
She had wrapped her arms around the young woman's neck and closed her eyes to open her own lips wider to Margaery's tongue.  
Her lips were as soft as silk.

Then, she suddenly broke the kiss.

Sansa looked at her glowing, rosy cheeks and her still slightly opened mouth, her lightly ragged breathing and her now messy hair so close to her and thought that she had never seen anything so beautiful.

But Margaery shook her head, a lump in her throat not allowing her to say another thing before she turned around and stormed out, leaving Sansa alone to her thrill and confusion.

\---

She wouldn't have gone to the dining hall this evening if she had had the choice. But, as a handmaiden announced, Lady Olenna had specifically asked for her presence and Lord Mace had approved of this appeal.

Sansa was exhausted and when she looked into the mirror she could see it. Luckily the necessary measures of hiding her had not included dyeing her hair in another colour - which was likely to be black - for it would only have emphasized the unnatural paleness on her skin. In a different situation Sansa might have fancied changing into another beautiful dress, doing so only seemed like another tiring thing to do now.

Margaery's rejection had drained the energy out of her, she had noticed that the Tyrell girl was the main source of her even having the energy to move. She asked herself how she could have gotten through the days, the thought of her family that had not been occupying her mind today hit her with full force.

While the handmaidens braided her hair in what was probably a fashionable style Sansa closed her eyes and tried to visualize Winterfell, the way it had been before the Lannisters had come. There was a faint memory of stone walls, the hot thermal water in the tower and her chambers which she had arranged as ladylike as possible in this rough surrounding, but the sight of flames and crumbling buildings superseded it.

Discouraged she gave it up at last, took a sip from her water glass before she left the room and descended the winding staircase into the corridor that eventually led her to the dining hall. Mace, Alerie and Olenna were already present, and the young Willas had arrived only a second before her. Much to her relief, there was no trace of Margaery to be seen.

"Ah, my dear." Lady Olenna clapped and looked at her with the same frightening gaze thatshe had used previously already.

"How beautiful to see that you've joined us."

"It's a pleasure, my lady", Sansa replied, trying to make her words appear true. She gladly accepted Lady Alerie's offer to take the seat next to her.

The remaining two brothers entered the room side by side, engaged in a talk that stopped when they came close to the table. However, Margaery was still missing when the clock announced the full hour. With a dispproving look Mace watched the door for a few seconds before he gave the servant a sign to serve the dinner.

To break the uncomfortable silence Loras leant forward and tilted his head towards Sansa.

"Has my sister showed you around here yet, my lady?", he asked.

"Oh, yes", she replied.

"However, Lady Olenna has as well taken part in showing me the garden. I love the roses her, we didn't have roses like this back home in..."

Her voice faded and she looked around while her face grew pale. When she had assured herself that no one could have listened she nodded.

"Oh, I believe you", Willas took the word and smiled gently.

"Every lady coming here from the northern parts of Westeros seem to be impressed by them. It may be unmanly through and through, but I too am enchanted by those roses. Maybe that's a reason why I can't seem to find a girl."

"I can assure you that I am not avert man liking roses!", Sansa exclaimed, followed by a mad blush.

"I- I mean, I cannot understand how anyone could not be touched by them. The Northeners are not into pretty things, and I have never understood."

"Northerners are a rough folk", Alerie said. Once again Sansa was both impressed and calmed down by her sweet, tranquil voice.

"We do not understand them as they do not understand us in some parts of life. My dear, would you mind telling us of Winterfell as soon as dinner is served and we are alone?"

It was such a direct request that Sansa was not able to decline. And she could not deny that she wanted to talk about Winterfell, thinking that it would maybe bring her the beautiful memories back.  
\---

The conversations had continued in this way: trivial conversations about castles, architecture, plants and religions, but in a way they were refreshing for Sansa. The dinner, however, had made her feel physically tired and she was glad to be able to sleep now. A wound in her heart had been reopened which hadn't even healed yet.

But it seemed that she would not get any sleep.

When she walked along the corridor back to the staircase she suddenly felt a strong hand grasping her wrist and froze. Her first instinct was to scream, but the person - whom she could not see in the darkness - quickly silenced her and pulled her into a room that looked like an old, unused study.

Heavily breathing she turned around as the grasp loosened.

"Lord Garlan!", she cried, but the young man shushed her.

"Be quiet!"

"Why did you scare me like this?", she whispered. In the faint moonlight his face looked gloomy and firm.

"I need to talk to you", he replied in a whispering voice that sent shivers down her spine. It was the same tone that Petyr Baelish had used when he had approched her from behind, mistaking her for her mother.

"I went at Margaery's chambers earlier. She appeared to be unfocused, and did not notice me entering. I heard her whispering the name of Joffrey Baratheon, accompanied by some... rather un-ladylike cursing words. It was right after she visited you."

Garlan fell silent and Sansa looked at him, who was roughly a head taller than herself.

"I... I don't understand", she whispered and her voice shivered.

"What I'm trying to say", he said, again grabbing her by her wrist and looking searchingly into her eyes, "is that we have given you shelter, and that should be it. You are not going to threaten Margaery's marriage to the king. You know that your life and death depends on us. Should Margaery refuse to marry Joffrey the honour of House Tyrell will be lost. And the honour of our house is worth a lot more than the life of a traitor's daughter."

He glanced at her warningly and Sansa felt tears swelling up in her eyes. Had she really destroyed so much through this simple act of impulsiveness? She looked straight into his eyes and slowly nodded.

"Swear it", Garlan hissed and pushed her against the wall.

"Swear. It."

"I- I swear", she whispered fearfully and turned her head away. A second later the grasp was gone and the sound of a door slamming threw her back into reality. With a suppressed sob she stumbled up the staircase, locked the door to her room and threw herself into the bed where the tears came.

She was about to ruin everything. Margaery would not marry Joffrey. The Tyrells would deliver her to the Iron Throne before they would be extinguished by the king's armies. She would die or something worse. Petyr Baelish would die as a traitor like the Tyrells and the Starks, all beacuse Sansa had not been able to refuse against her father's will.

She sobbed and dug her fingernails into the pillow, tore on the cloth violently, until it broke. Downs rained on hr and she screamed, regardless of the inhabited rooms around her, hammered her fists against the wall until her knuckles hurt and bled. She couldn't take it.

It had been her fault, she knew now, and the wound was as open as it never had been. Anger at herself throbbed within her chest and it felt as though it would tear her apart. Sansa screamed against and sunk down the wall, burying her face in between her arms and knees, crying. It didn't make the pain go away, but it cleansed something on the inside, and after a while there was nothing left but the raw sadness and the hole in her chest, accompanied by tears that would not stop flowing.

Then, suddenly, the door which had been locked flew open and the light steps of Margaery hurried through the rrom. She went down on her knees next to Sansa, stroke the hair away from her face.

"By the gods, what's happened to you?", she whispered as she saw Sansa's bleeding hands, unable to get out anything besides uncontrollable sobbing out of her.

"Oh darling, hold on", Margaery said and stood up quickly. Her eyes roamed across the room until they eventually found the fresh washing bowl. With it in one hand and the towel in the other she went back to Sansa and put the girl's hands away from in front of her face. Sansa whimpered in pain and unwillingness but was too weak to fight Margaery.

"Does this hurt?", the Tyrell girl asked as she began to clean Sansa's hands from the blood. Still the other reacted with nothing but a shaken head. Margaery proceeded in cleaning her hands while she talked to her soothingly. She didn't pressure her into explaining her condition and Sansa felt thankful, even though she was deeply ashamed that Margaery had toi see and even care for her like this.

The water was red by the time the dry blood had been washed off, and from an old oak chest that Sansa had not even paid attention to earlier she took out two bandages which she carefully wrapped around her hands.

Her tears had ceased, and Sansa felt incredibly tired. She wanted nothing but to sleep, preferably forever, escape the confrontation and the pain. When Margaery realized that she would not speak to her, the girl put an arm around her to help her stand up and guided her over to the bed. When she began opening the buttons of the heavy dress Sansa did not speak a word of complaint, just closed her eyes. Margaery's touch was soft and it felt like Sansa had never ever kissed her, made her hate her.

Pulling the dress of her shoulders the brunette stopped in her movement for a second, and Sansa felt the gentle fingertips brushing over her bare skin. She was painfully reminded of the way Margaery's fingers had grasped her waist earlier that day.

Again a dry sob came from her throat and she fell back onto the mattress. She heard, as if through a thick layer of cotton, that Margaery was trying to persuade her to get up again, but she curled up in an embryonic position and did not move again, not did she feel that Margaery pulled the blanket over her shivering body and wrapped her arms around her from behind, gave her a kiss onto her forehead and buried her beautiful face in Sansa's autumn red hair.

\---

She woke up with a burning pain in her fingers and a pair of arms around her body. The sun had already risen above Highgarden and Sansa could only guess how late it had become without her waking up. Unpleasant memories of the previous night came over her again and she squeezed her eyes shut in order to drive them away before they could pain her again. However, her movement had obviously unsettled the person lying next to her, for she felt the loose grasp around her body vanishing.

Sansa turned her head in her still half asleep state and found herself again in a mass of light brown curls. Suddenly she froze again.

"Margaery?", she whispered.

"I feared you'd never wake up, darling." Margaery looked at her with downcast eyelashes. Her voice was gentle as always, loving, but shaky as well.

"Why did you come?" Sansa turned away, the realization that she was not wearing anything aside from her underwear shooting the blood into her head.

"I wanted to swear you we'd find a way." She sounded sad and quiet.

"And then I heard you cry. I couldn't leave you like this and I never wanted to leave you. Please, listen to me."

"You were the one running away", Sansa answered back, surprised by the steadyness of her voice.

"But I think you're right. If you become distracted you'll destroy the honour of your house. That would be the second house extinguished because of a foolish Stark girl."

"Sansa, please", Margaery begged. She put a hand onto Sansa's shoulder, and unwillingly the redhead turned over to look at her.

"I promise you we'll find a way."

"There can't be a way", Sansa said coldly.

"It's either me or Joffrey. There can't be both of us."

"But I don't love him!", the other girl shouted.

"Who says that you'll love me in a few months? Who says that you love me and aren't just in love? Who assures you that any of this is going to work?"

"And if it doesn't work, so what?"" Margaery shook her head and forced up Sansa's chin to look into her fierce, beautiful eyes.

"Don't you want to have all of this for once? And if it's just for a few months. I'll never love Joffrey, and I doubt I'll ever be able to love anyone in King's Landing. If we find out this can't last then we'll at least know that we had it! Please, Sansa. There is a way. I promise."

Sansa looked away from Margaery again. Her desperate, passionate words had touched something at her core, she had to admit. She culdn't deny that she wanted it. Nothing had ever felt as good as Margaery's touch on her skin, her lips on hers, her breath on her neck and her face in her hair. What did she have to lose? Her days as a Stark survivor were limited.

Instead of an answer she threw her arms around Margaery, tackling the overwhelmed girl to the bed and locking their lips in a kiss that was even more desperate and passionate than Margaery's words.

She'd have it all.


End file.
